The Rift Keeper
by Exdeamon
Summary: A rag tag group of misfitting adventurers find a way to work togethor in a desperate attempt to keep the abyss, the hells, the heavens and the physical plane from collapsing on each other in a tale told by the oddest of the group, a confused young man. R
1. Prologue

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Ok, Yeah. This is one of my first works... Also one of my best in my opinion. I'm a little nervous about posting this, but I hope you all enjoy it.

This is the events of the entirety of the campaign that my friends and I have done and dusted. It is all from the point of veiw of my character. The prologue shall be 3rd person, everything else from 1st person, the rememberings of my character a couple years after the whole incidend. And this being my friends and I, things tended to get rather hectic.

I have only got round to writing out the first few chapters of this... and I am not entirely confident of my writing talents. but if i get a few good confidence boosters then I should be able to pull myself together from the sorry state of my mind and get off my lazy arse and do something about that.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own dungeons and dragons. I do not own this campaign, my friend does. I only own the character Shreik and his views. If I owned the other things I wouldn't be writing this.

**The Rift-Keeper.**

Prologue:

**DEAMON-COW!**

(A.k.a.: How It Formed)

Shreik sighed. His new life was just settling, and then this had to happen. Of course he had always longed for adventure, like most adolescents, but then again- he wasn't like most adolescents.

Shreik Worm-Tail WAS the son of the shaman of his tribe. He had lived in that tribe for the first 12 years of his life, during which he learned the secrets of the soul energies of magical beasts, the body language of the wild, even the tongue of angels had been revealed to him. But in this "civilised" world, the strange markings on stuff always foiled him. It was a source of constant frustration, and to add salt to the wound, everyone knew it but him, and almost everyone patronised him for it.

He dressed in his black and white studded-leather, a gift from his tribe, and he hooked his weapon of choice onto his belt, his palm lingering on the wooden shaft. The damn thing had taken years to learn to use.

It was similar to a short spear, about 4 feet long, with the last six inches incorporating the blade, its main difference from this weapon and a spear. The aptly named "Ripper" has a serrated edge, its curved spikes raking towards the wielder, with its tip a fine point.

Just as he got to the door, he placed his final piece of attire-his dark red glasses that extend to cover all angles of his vision-over his eyes, concealing one of a few things that give away his true heritage.

Shreik was a member of an incredibly rare sub-race of humans, the Azurian. Having dramatically stronger souls than most others, this manifested in odd ways. Their aging processes increased dramatically, cutting their life span. Their eyes usually glowed a shade of blue, completely encompassing their iris and whites. Shreik, however, was different in such regards as well. _'Ever the misfit'. _During battle, or intense negative emotions, his eyes seemed to drain the light from around them, burning an intense black._ 'Ever the misfit, so whys it strange that I should group up with more misfits?'_

Even his hair, a spiky, medium length wild collection of bangs, was a misfit, with dark blue, almost black tints running along its black medium.

He exited his bedroom, meeting his companions in the living room. The two rather attractive women sat stiffly in the seats. Lady Maeia, the knight without a master, and Mell Liadon, the paladin without a purpose.

'_Heh, even in a group of misfits I'm a misfit… one could say that I'm the only normal one, but it'd be a lie.' _It was true. He was the only male in the group, and the closest things to a spell-caster in the group that he might as well shed his armour and throw a fireball.

Maeia was a tall woman, reaching a height of five foot eight, but still shorter than Shreik by four inches. She had long, waist-length black hair that kept tidily but delicately behind her shoulders. She had blue eyes, that shade of blue the reminds most of a cloudless sky on a serene day. She had an athletic build, obvious even through her armour, with a slim waist and an hourglass figure; she was considerably more attractive than almost everyone in this village.

The paladin was similarly beautiful, but in a slightly more exotic way. She had jet-black hair that matched her dark skin, tied in a ponytail that extended just below her neck, and a rigorous routine of exercise gave her muscles that rippled with her movement. Her dark green eyes seemed to reflect the fiery passion in her soul, convicting evils unquestionably.

_Paladins and knights._ Thought Shreik._ Two very similar professions if you ask me. Paladins pursue 'evil' with 'just' convictions for 'good' gods… like crusaders really. At least knights serve something substantial; they're sire, rather than the gospel of clerics._

Through silent agreement the party left the house, seeking mercenary work.

Almost as if it was a sick mockery of fate, there was a scream for help from a nearby barn.

Surprisingly, the paladin seemed to care less about this happening, and just stood still as Shreik and Maeia started for it.

Shreik stopped as Maeia confronted the paladin.

"What are you doing?" Maeia shouted at the paladin.

"Waiting around." Mel replied.

"WAITING AROUND? There's an innocent screaming for help over there - you of all people should want to help, let alone the Tree-hugger!"

"I'm not a druid!" Shreik interrupted bitterly.

"The point is that SHE should help!" Maeia whacked Mel's armoured arm before dragging her in the direction of the barn, Shreik following hastily.

As they arrived at the barn, the party set their eyes upon a farmer trying to help a cow through birth, but it seemed a problem considering the size of the cow's womb was twice that of its body.

Shreik, the only one with any experience, led a futile attempt to help the birthing. Just as they thought they were getting somewhere, there was a tearing sound, a loud moo, and then the cow exploded, a red mist forming around the room, coating Shreik and the farmer in blood.

As the cloud dissipated, a large cow-like creature stands in the middle of it, its two cloven feet, claw like hands and glowing red eyes a sure sign of its demonic heritage.

The farmer sighed in frustration and charged the cow-demon with all his might, a pitchfork in hand, and stabbed the cow. Shreik, following suit, runs his ripper through the cow, twisting it as he drew it out, tearing the organs on its way. The cow grunted, but before it can even rally itself, Maeia slashed her blade with practiced finesse, hacking off its arm. The cow screamed, and in a last act of rage charged at the farmer. It missed, falling head first onto the ground and driving its knee into its brain, killing it.

Shreik dropped out of his defensive stance, and took a few steps back.

"The... The cow just EXPLODED!"

The farmer moved over to Shreik. "Yeah, but we just killed a demon-cow!"

"THE COW EXPLODED!"

At this point Maeia slapped Shreik, bringing him to his senses. "SHUT UP!"

"…Okay…"

Mell quickly turned to the farmer. "When was the last time this happened? I don't recall cows giving birth to demons being common."

The farmer thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. "Well… This last happened when the last Rift-Keeper just started off… let me deal with the corpse, you should bring this news to the wizard."

The party gave a collective nod and started off. Shreik sighed,_ 'Oh well… off on another dangerous adventure…'_


	2. Chapter 1 : Demon cows

Well, second chapter... It's been pre-written and I'm too damn lazy to bother re-writing it. 'Sides that, I was very happy with it.

Well, this is where the story STARTS. Past the prologue, first combat and first quest. ofcourse its more than one chapter a quest.

With this change also comes a change in writing style. This was my first drabble with an first person perspective, and I quite liked it.

Onwards. Enjoy. Reveiw. Flame. Criticise. Whatever, just do something other than nothing.

Chapter one:

**Wizard and a Shiny Man**

(A.k.a.: The Rift-Keeper's Sword)

Yes, you've guessed it. I am Shreik. The Misfit, The Totemist, The Tree-Huger… The names go on.

Now you know how the gang formed, and how I started my second adventure, my only worthwhile endeavor. The Knight-now known as "Lady Rift-Keeper"-and me got on well… sometimes. The Paladin was surprisingly apathetic, and wasn't at all thrilled by the events that followed.

Anyway, I expect you're anxious to get on with the story.

We walked through the woods for hours, and hours more. I was on the verge of asking "are we there yet" repeatedly just to see my companion's reactions. Night fell over the sun of day, and I noticed the usual change in the raging spirits of the souls of the wild.

"Its getting dark, should we stop or continue on?" Queried the paladin, shaking me from my reverence.

"We're already half way from the tower, we shouldn't take long. I say we go on" Stated the knight. If I were anyone else, I probably would have agreed from the authority in her voice.

"But you haven't seen what lurks in these woods! I say it's too dangerous!" I defied her, as per my usual. I was young then, and cowardly, although in reflection I just wanted to have an excuse to sleep under the stars.

"We're almost there and that's that, onwards to the tower." The knight said in a commanding tone. The paladin nodded in agreement.

Being the child I once was, I grumbled, naturally. I grumbled on the way there and grumbled as I saw the tower, although inwardly I was impressed at the height of such a structure.

Of course back then I was so very innocent, and so very anxious. I was raised in the manner of a normal human, my mind still in its fifteens. I stopped the paladin from knocking.

"What are you doing?" asked the paladin in a curious tone. I released my grip on her wrist.

"I do not believe it is wise to knock on the wizards door this time of night." I said quietly.

The knight turned to me. "Why not?"

"Well… it's a wizard isn't it?"

"Your point?"

"Well… a powerful one probably, seeing the tower and all…"

"Go on…"

I swallowed, nervous. "Well… people get angry if you wake them up in the middle of the night don't they? And I don't really want an angry, powerful wizard opening that door and shooting us with a fireball or something." I hated arcanists back then… I still do. They are mockery's of creation given power through grant of a goddess. Most who enter the arcanists profession are snobs who shouldn't deserve the right to wield creation through the weave of the world

I hadn't realized my voice was rising as I ranted. I must've woke the wizard by accident, as a pile of slop, muck, filth, and brown solids I wished not to identify, fell on me from an above window.

I turned to the door to see an aged man in flowing robes. He was balding and had a long white beard. From the stereotype, I guessed he was the wizard, and I kept my mouth shut in a vain attempt to avoid detection.

"Well, you've awoken me now, what do you want?" If I knew a curse back then, I would've sworn from fear.

"There was a… Unique situation in the village, and it was suggested to us that we may seek you out." Replied the paladin. Mell always had a way of being polite to everyone but Maeia.

The wizard glanced us over, nodding thoughtfully. "Aye, you can come in. put your weapons in the umbrella pot. You-" He pointed at me. I gulped nervously, fearing the worst. "-There's a bath up-stairs, clean yourself, I don't want my house smelling like Shit." I sighed, relaxing visibly. Even if I didn't know what the word meant, I got the gist of it. Treading quickly up the tower, I soon arrived at a washroom, and proceeded with what was now the familiar routine of bathing. I relaxed into the warm water, magically cleaned, as an unseen-servant washed my clothes. I must've dosed off, as I awoke sometime later to a scream. I leapt out of the bath and, dried by the magical water, dressed quickly in my armour, racing down the stairs.

I burst through the cellar door, scanning the room. The Paladin was leaning against a wall, panting. The Knight was in a defensive stance next to some puddles of blood, and the wizard was talking to a large figure in some plate-armour. I approached the knight, knowing the paladin was probably too tired to give some advice.

"What happened?" I enquired curiously, panting slightly from my multi-floor run.

The knight pulled me aside into a corner. "Be quite, your gonna ruin our face."

Not knowing the metaphorical statements meaning, I persisted. "What happened? Whose the shiny thing?"

"Be quite!"

"WHAT HAPPENED!?" I shouted, growing impatient. I regretted my choice of action immediately as the shiny man approached me. I backed up, trying to look small instinctively. "Err… Mr. Shiny man… Sir…?"

"I have a name, small one. It is Azriel"

"Erm… Yes… Azriel… Err… W-what happened?" I stuttered in fear. This large metallic figure was easily eight inches taller than me, and looked very strong.

"We were attacked by imps, who stole something of importance. Your knight should be able to fill you in on the details. I must make preparations." He walked off, moving into the main castle to 'preparations'.

I shot a glance at the knight. "Well…?"

She sighed, raising her new sword to my view. "See this sword?" I nodded. "This is the sword of the Rift Keeper. He kept the planes of The Abyss and Hell from interfering with this one. He had seven magical artifacts and this sword, which he used too keep them sealed. If all seven of these items fell into the hands of an evil greater in power to that of the previous, then we are thoroughly and irrevocably screwed."

I caught all of that back then. The seven layers of hell kept lord over the devils, organized, evil creatures of darkness. They had twisted senses of honour and played to certain rules. The Abyss, however, was infinite. A hole in the planar map, as big as can be conceived, and then made slightly bigger, ever so slightly, just to boggle the mind. Demons inhabited its lands, creatures not to dissimilar to the devils, but at least devils have a sense of the rules. If a devil would enter your house, threaten you, and then usurp power to rule over the land, a demon would set the houses on fire, rape everyone, skin the, eat them, and then burn anything left behind, before eating that. Most of the time theyd do it in that order, but the chaos in them makes them unpredictable. Still, back then one thing bothered me.

"One question…"

"What?"

"What does 'irrevocably' mean?"

She sighed in frustration. I had a lack of vocabulary in the common tongue back then, a major one. "It means: 'cant be undone'"

Satiated with this knowledge, I nodded. "And… the imps?"

"They stole the artifact the wizard was guarding."

I nodded, only just letting this knowledge sink in. "So…. We're gonna die?"

"If we don't get that artifact back, then yes"

I nodded again. "So… We're gonna die."

Maeia slapped me, later saying I should keep a more positive attitude.

"The wizard is giving us help in locating it. He's given me the sword, The Paladin-" She spat the term with venom. "-A strange looking helm, and he gave me this to give to you." She concluded, handing me a flute.

As soon as my hand lay on the flute, I felt a surge of energy flow through my veins. I felt my hair grow slightly, and my eyes became very itchy. With the lack of my glasses, I saw the now bright blue glow of my eyes reflect out of Maeia's eyes. I felt my head throb with the now familiar dull ache of my souls strength. Sometimes incarnum had its disadvantages, it would take a few days before that died down.

I staggered slightly, the rush taking me by surprise. I could feel my avatars form being harder to surprises, and obviously it was now slightly visible as Maeia looked at me with a concerned glance, before diverting her attention to the wizard. I wondered how many people would notice the visage of a Grey Render in the next town we visited.

Now a lot of you must be puzzled. "Grey Render? Visage? Flute? Energy? Incarnum? Of?

I will fill you in later. Some things need some background information.

After an hour of suspenseful silence, broken by the sounds of our collective breaths, the wizards quiet chanting, and my footsteps as a paced impatiently; the wizard sat up, his eyes flashing.

One of his invisible conjuration came down the stairs of the cellar, carrying a map and a torch to discern its location. Handing the map to the Knight, who by now had assumed command of the party, it returned upstairs

"Here is a map of the town of Fareth'Tan, the place where the imps have taken the artifact. There is a house marked on the map, there should be the artifact. Good luck o your travels, you'll need it."

We left after that, exchanging farewells with the short-term ally.


End file.
